


Aftermath

by dk323



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Arthurian legend - Freeform, F/M, Magic, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dk323/pseuds/dk323
Summary: Despite Henry’s return to England -- a place he should find comforting by virtue of familiarity – he feels adrift, lost. After all, not all his memories of England are happy ones. Now he lives in a decidedly quieter and emptier world since the war wiped out half the Earth’s population.With the end of the war, formerly secretive people come out of the woodwork. People with magic. Henry has to navigate a new world. And he learns there may be a way to end his immortality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Once and Future Henry Morgan Forever Ficathon. Thank you for the organizers for putting together this fun ficathon. :-)
> 
> The Arthurian legend part of it is taking inspiration from BBC's Merlin (love playing in that sandbox...couldn't resist). So it's a distant future, post-apocalyptic AU where Arthur is, well, a disastrous mess just a bit...and it's mostly due to Merlin being MIA. Without Merlin, Arthur just isn't the same... and Henry Morgan gets sort of stuck in the middle.

With a growing headache, Henry returned home after a long day of work serving as the court physician at the castle. Being a mentor to a young man still grieving over his father’s death was challenging. Though he tried to persuade Rilian not to solely rely on his magic for healing others, the 22-year old man failed to listen to him. 

Still, Henry persisted with the hope that one day, he and Rilian could find a cure for a terrible family curse in Rilian’s family. The same one that caused the untimely death of Rilian’s father. 

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Henry took a deep breath.

And he immediately regretted taking the breath. He’d had the wild belief that everything at home would be all right. 

Blessedly routine.

But no.

Effie was here when by all rights, she didn’t have to be.

She smiled at Henry as he entered the living room. Henry’s eight-month old son, Cerulean, smiled at him, babbling something as he crawled over to him.

Henry grinned back at Cerulean and, still smiling, he lifted the boy up into his arms, hugging him. 

“Hi there, Cerulean,” Henry said, kissing his brow. Cerulean’s startling blue eyes glowed even brighter as they usually did when he was feeling especially cheerful. “Thank you, Effie, for coming on such short notice. I apologize for that. Arthur called you?”

She shook her head. “It was no problem. Cerulean is a sweetheart. Mr. Pendragon was feeling unwell, so he wanted me to come to look after Cerulean.”

“Where is he?” Henry asked, but he already knew the answer.

Effie pointed in the direction of the bathroom. 

Henry sighed. He gave her Cerulean. “Thank you, Effie.”

She smiled, pleasant as always. “Of course, Dr. Morgan.”

The 16-year old teenager was a lucky find, and she was very good with Cerulean, but there were reasons why Henry preferred not to use her as a babysitter.

He headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Arthur.

Henry knocked on the closed bathroom door. “Arthur? It’s me.”

“Yeah,” was all Arthur said, his voice shaky.

Henry heard the sound of heaving and he didn’t doubt that Arthur had just vomited into the toilet.

He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally preparing himself for this encounter. He opened up the door.

Henry went in. 

He saw Arthur looking pale, sweat coming down his forehead, and his eyes bloodshot.

“Like you said, withdrawal’s a bitch.”

Sighing, he handed the glass to Arthur. “Drink this,” he ordered. “And I don’t believe I quite said it in that way, but yes, word to that effect.”

“Was it like this for you when you were trying to go clean?”

“I did my best to ensure the drugs killed me instead of contending with withdrawal. But the times I suffered withdrawal, I imagine I felt as miserable as you do now.” Henry confided to him.

Arthur took a shuddering breath. “I wish I had the luxury. To die and come back to life.”

Then he stopped, coming to a realization as his eyes widened. “I don’t know why I said that. I know you hate it. And then…” Arthur didn’t say anymore as he removed what little he had left in his system into the toilet.

To Henry’s dismay, there was some blood. 

He patted the younger man on the back. “I’ll make you a tonic that should help. You can get through this. You are a brave man, don’t doubt that. I’ve seen plenty of patients in my years as a doctor come in and they’ve relapsed. It takes a strong person to stay off the drugs no matter how powerful the addiction can be.”

“I’m sorry about Effie… I know she reminds you of your dead wife.”

“That was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing contacting her.”

Henry relented in telling him his suspicions. Arthur was feeling terrible enough, and he didn’t need anything to make him feel even worse. That he was almost certain Effie was Abigail’s incarnation, but she hadn’t remembered her old life yet. Henry wasn’t sure she ever would. The physical resemblance was all too damning and sometimes, Effie looked at him differently. Looked at Henry as if she was Abigail, a younger version of her, but still her. But then the moment passed, and Effie was her usual self again.

With all that, Henry often times liked to keep his distance from her. Since Effie was only 16, therefore underage, Henry was worried that he’d be tempted one of these days to do something he’d regret. When he missed Abigail terribly, he wasn’t confident in his ability to separate Effie from his long dead wife.

A few more years, Henry thought. Then it would be all right if he ever desired to pursue a relationship with her. Although he definitely didn’t need more complications with women. Cerulean’s mother, for one, was a whole other issue that Henry still hadn’t fully resolved.

“I swear I was all right this morning,” Arthur muttered.

“You can’t count on withdrawal symptoms having convenient timing.”

Arthur gave him a weak smile, appearing to appreciate the small joke.

Henry left the bathroom with reassurances he’d return as soon as he would finish the tonic.

Passing through, he watched his son move some toys telekinetically with his magic as Effie watched him. Henry gave Cerulean words of praise – not having a toy hit him by accident was a success as he was still testing out his limits and there’d been some past mishaps. 

He headed into the kitchen, getting to work on gathering the ingredients for his tonic.

As he worked, Henry recalled the day that Rilian’s father entered his life. Even if Henry didn’t realize it then, it would be a fateful meeting that would change his life forever.

~ * ~

A Year and a Half Earlier

“You asked for my assistance, Dr. Turner?”

“Please, the name is Declan.”

“Henry,” he gave him his name in kind. “And what do you need me for? I’m an A&E physician, you must know that. I’m not a surgeon.”

Declan nodded. “I need you here because you’re the only one I believe I can trust.”

“With what?”

“Ensuring that no one else enters this room while I heal this man.”

Henry studied the young man asleep in bed. His right leg looked very bad, an infected wound just at the knee. Below the knee, the skin was becoming discolored, darkened, as blood flow was disrupted. Other than that, the patient was physically fit, possessing an athletic build. He had blond hair in a buzz cut, and Henry wondered if the young man had served in the military because of this.

“He requires a below-knee amputation. There’s not much chance to save it from what I see.” Henry told him as he evaluated the damaged area.

Declan had a determined glint in his dark eyes. “I can remedy that. He doesn’t have to lose a limb.”

Henry raised his eyebrow, doubtful. “And what do you propose to do?”

“Could I trust you to make sure no one else comes in?”

In disbelief, Henry said, “I don’t know how you were able to convince the nurses and other doctors to stay away. You could not do this on your own. Certainly I alone can’t be enough.”

“I’ll be fine. Well?”

“I’ll keep watch,” Henry relented.

Declan pulled out a wand. Henry widened his eyes. “You possess magic?”

“I know you have your own secret, Henry. I know you have lived longer than should be possible. Now would I be wrong in thinking you’d give away my secret?”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Henry hissed, annoyed with the man for putting him in this difficult position.

“No,” Declan said with a sigh. “Simply letting you know that I have a lot to lose as well if my secret gets out. People have become more nervous these days, I’m sad to say.”

“With good reason. Considering the post-war, near apocalyptic world we’re living in for the last year now,” Henry pointed out. 

He shook his head, deciding perhaps against his better judgment to help his fellow doctor. If only for the fact that Declan knew about his immortality. And these days, only Adam was aware of his inability to die permanently. 

Even then, Henry didn’t count Adam as he wouldn’t call him a friend. More like, “forced-upon acquaintance.” Adam had made peace, however begrudgingly, with Henry after being put into that Locked-In Syndrome state decades ago. Still, Henry’s instinct not to trust Adam held fast.

“Very well. I will help you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Declan nodded at him. “Do not worry. I have done this before.”

So Henry watched as his fellow doctor swept his wand over the patient’s leg.

Pale yellow magic streamed out of the thin unassuming piece of wood and upon touching the wounded limb, the grave injury healed smoothly. 

Mere minutes passed by and his leg was as good as new. Henry couldn’t believe that this patient had been on the verge of losing part of his limb as he peered at the other doctor’s work.

“Impressive,” Henry acknowledged.

Declan smiled. His complexion had gone pale, and Henry could see him breathing heavily as he put away his wand.

“Healing a major wound such as this comes at a price. Sometimes I believe not using magic would be better. Yet in this case, I was willing to take a risk.”

The patient was still in a deep sleep. Fortunately the magic healing appeared to come with the added benefit of no pain -- at least not enough to wake up the patient.

Henry frowned at him. “What is special about this case? Is this man important to you?”

“Something like that. He’s important to the man I work for. I came to help him because of that.”

“What’s this patient’s name?” Henry wanted to know.

Declan sighed. He pressed a hand over his brow as if he was nursing a headache. “Tristan. I’m not sure how he managed to get that awful wound, but it’s in the past now.”

Henry observed Declan, noticing his condition worsen. He looked shaky on his feet. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

Declan waved his hand at him. 

“No, no, that’s all right.”

Before Henry could argue, there was the sound of the patient, Tristan, waking up that diverted his attention. 

Tristan coughed, moving his body so that he was sitting up, propped up against the pillows. 

He focused his attention on Declan. Henry surmised that they knew each other by the recognition in both their eyes.

“He got you to come? What incentive did he give you?” Tristan asked him.

Declan looked at Henry instead of answering Tristan’s questions.

“Would you believe me if I told you that this man used to be King Arthur?”

Tristan glared at Declan. “Fuck off,” he shot out, irritated. “I didn’t want your help.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. Was Declan serious? Did healing Tristan result in his mind becoming confused? He had looked physically ill afterwards…what if he’d been affected mentally as well?

“What do you mean? Of Arthurian legend? Those are just stories.”

“Just like magic was a make-believe idea once upon a time?” Declan countered. “Most didn’t know that magic was real and in their midst.”

Henry wasn’t sure he believed Declan’s ‘King Arthur’ declaration. True, he had a good point about magic, but this Tristan was simply a very annoyed 20-something. He was nothing like the honorable King Arthur he had read in stories long ago.

It was madness.

“It’s hard to accept, Declan. I don’t think I believe he is King Arthur.”

“Well! Somebody is talking sense here!” Tristan said, raising his hands up.

But… and maybe Henry was only imagining it, but there might have been a fleeting sadness in Tristan’s eyes when Henry confessed his disbelief.

Declan sighed. “I understand. Tristan has been through a lot,” he told Henry. He turned to Tristan. “King Myrddin wants to find him just as much as you do. Let us work together instead of you searching on your own. We can find him faster if we cooperate.”

Tristan snorted, crossing his arms against his chest. “No, not interested. It’s a lost cause. If you lot can’t find him in twenty-five years, then what the bloody fuck is the point?”

“There’s no need to swear,” Declan admonished.

Tristan nodded his head at Henry. “Take a page from his book and stop fuckin’ acting like I’m someone I’m not. Help me get out of here. NOW.”

“If that’s how you’re going to talk, why should I help you?” Declan said, tone stubborn.

Tristan climbed out of bed. Henry was surprised at the strength of the magic healing, and that the leg that had been in danger of amputation was far from it now. Tristan bore weight on it, and he didn’t even react with even the mildest surprise that his badly damaged leg was completely healed.

Quickly gathering his belongings, Tristan then looked to Declan. 

“Please, just help me. I have a right to make my own decisions. Allow me the courtesy of respecting it. Please.”

After a long awkward silence, Declan gave a small nod. “Very well. Good luck, Tristan.”

Upon touching Tristan’s shoulder, Declan caused him to disappear, or teleport magically Henry decided that was the better way to describe it.

Declan turned to Henry. 

“What is it?” Henry asked when the other man didn’t speak for several long moments.

Declan shrugged. “I was only thinking that someone who has lived as long as you have, that you would understand that there is more to a person than meets the eye.”

“Why do you want me to believe that young man is King Arthur? Or was? I’m assuming you are referring to him being reincarnated.”

Declan snapped his fingers. “Yes, exactly that. Do you think you can believe in Arthurian legend being real?”

Henry peered at him. Should he believe what Declan was saying? Even if he was a magical healer, Declan was still a fellow doctor, and he knew Henry's secret. Henry knew Declan’s secret too—having magic, which if discovered by the government authorities, life in a grim, nightmarish government facility for experimentation was imminent. These facilities were only rumors Henry had heard, but he didn’t doubt the truth of them. 

And it was where he feared he’d end up too if he was found out. Getting tested endlessly to investigate all angles of his immortal condition would be his living nightmare. He already had bad memories of his time in the insane asylum here in England that Nora had put him in the 19th century. And back then, the misguided doctors believed him mentally ill and didn't take to heart his ramblings about being immortal. 

He couldn't imagine how it would be if he was believed to be immortal and he was tortured because of it. 

So in the end, sharing those secrets with Declan meant something.

He had to give Declan a chance.

There was no turning back now. And it had been so long since Henry had a close confidante – he found Adam sorely lacking since after all, he was a killer.

Henry shrugged. He rubbed the back of his head, thinking. “I’m not certain if I should regret returning to England.”

Declan let out a small laugh. He clapped his hand on Henry’s back. “Don’t worry. I aim to be your guide.”

~ * ~

Henry looked up at the castle that stood in the center with single family dwellings scattered around it and as far as the eye could see. A half-circle of oak trees enclosing the castle itself broke off only for the main entrance to the castle proper. Towers sprouted out of the castle in an admittedly haphazard way. The entire castle glittered with some sort of silver paint that was so vibrant that it appeared starlight twinkled upon the castle’s exterior. Henry didn’t doubt that this seeming illusion had a magic component to it.

“This is Oakenmist, primarily a safe haven for magic users. Only those who are accepted to reside here can see the castle and town. Otherwise a magical ward disguises what truly is here,” Declan waved his hand over the castle standing, tall and imposing, in front of them. “Oakenmist provides protection against the growing government paranoia against those like you and me. Those like us need to stay together. That way we can protect each other.”

Henry frowned, unsure how he would fit in a place where everyone had magic like Declan.

“I’m not a wizard, if that’s the right word, Declan. What use will I be here? Is there a need for a doctor who can’t die?”

“Your many years of experience is invaluable. I can’t compete with that. And my King specifically requested a doctor who practiced non-magical medicine. His mother, you see, possessed no magic and magic couldn’t help her. He feels that she had been brought to a non-magical physician sooner, she would still be alive today. So he wants to ensure an instance like that does not take place again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is this the King Myrddin you mentioned before with Tristan?”

Declan nodded. 

Declan led him to the throne room, but on the way there, he almost bumped into a teenaged girl with blonde hair. 

“Oh!” The girl said. “I’m sorry.”

Henry couldn’t help but stare at her. She looked like a younger version of Abigail. The physical resemblance was uncanny. Although he’d never seen her in a dress more common in the medieval era. 

He could see that this sanctuary for those with magic was an attempt to recreate Camelot. If he could believe Declan’s story about Arthurian legend being real, then it wasn’t farfetched to accept Oakenmist was borrowing elements from Camelot where King Arthur once reigned. 

“No, I apologize,” Henry said graciously.

Declan stepped in, introducing him to the young woman. “Henry, this is Euphemia. She is one of Queen Laurel’s ladies-in-waiting.”

“Effie, please call me Effie,” Euphemia—Effie interrupted with a bright smile.

“Yes, right. Effie. Never been fond of your full name for as long as I’ve known you. This is Dr. Henry Morgan. He’s here to visit, and hopefully to find a home here, working as a physician.”

Courteously, Henry bent down and kissed the back of her hand. She blushed slightly, appeared pleased at the attention. Henry swore he saw a glimpse of his Abigail, back when Abraham was young, flash across his mind’s eye. But Effie didn’t show any recognition toward him, no sign that she used to know him in another life. Perhaps it was all a desperate hope on Henry’s part? Maybe the likeness was a simple coincidence. 

Still, it was nice to see someone sharing Abigail’s likeness even it may not go further than that. And if she truly was Abigail reborn, carrying her soul inside her, Henry knew he had to make peace with Effie never remembering her old life. He couldn’t force her to, and he didn’t want to. Delicate things such as this – affecting the mind – were best left to occur naturally.

Effie peered at him with great interest. “Oh, you’re the immortal man, aren’t you?” 

Henry gave Declan a surprised look. “Does everyone here know?”

“This is a place of magic. Someone possessing immortality is not especially unusual.”

“After all, the King’s own father was immortal,” Effie said.

Declan shook his head at her, his expression turning serious. Henry deduced easily that the subject of the King’s father was best not openly spoken about.

Henry knew that he should let the subject shift to another topic. But his curiosity won out.

So he asked, “And what was his immortal father’s name?”

Henry had a suspicion that it may be Merlin. It was the first name he thought of with the recent discussion of Arthurian legend, and Myrddin had been another name for Merlin in medieval Welsh legend.

Effie looked down, seeming to feel bad for introducing an unpleasant subject.

Declan only frowned, and he tried to steer the conversation into a different direction. “We should go into the throne room.” 

Henry was grateful when Declan relented, no doubt noticing that Henry was undeterred and would not let his question be disregarded. “If the King wishes to discuss his father, then he will. But otherwise, it would be wisest not to ask.”

“His name was Merlin, wasn’t it? That’s why that patient, who you said was once King Arthur, is looking for him. But you told him that King Myrddin wanted to work with him to find Merlin,” Henry said, putting the pieces into place and glad to see them fitting easily. “It makes sense. They would both have an interest in finding him. With Merlin being King Arthur’s closest confidante and Myrddin being…”

Declan raised his hand. “Yes, all right,” he cut in. “I know it was futile trying to keep secrets from you.”

He sounded breathless. Henry immediately guided him to sit down at the window seat in a nearby alcove.

Henry sat down beside him, placing his hand on Declan’s shoulder. “Are you all right? What is going on?”

Declan remained silent, focusing on catching his breath. 

Effie looked sadly at Declan. Henry heard her say to Declan, “It’s a terrible shame.”

Henry directed his attention to Effie, his tone urgent, “Where’s the hospital wing?”

Effie sighed. “It’s not far. Two corridors down in the opposite direction and then turn right. But there’s little that can be done for him, Dr. Morgan. Declan will die no matter what. The only thing we can do is make him feel comfortable.”

Henry couldn’t stop himself from glaring at her, forgetting that he reminded her of his long ago wife. He just couldn’t accept not being able to save this man.

“What do you mean?”

Then, a man and a woman magically appeared before them. Their appearances contrasted one another in that the man was dark haired with light eyes while the woman was a redhead with brown eyes.

“It’s becoming worse sooner than we expected. His son must be contacted,” Effie told the man and woman.

The man looked grim and the woman had tears glistening in her eyes. 

“Would someone please explain why Declan cannot be saved?” Henry said, raising his voice so he could be heard.

The mystery man looked repentant. “I apologize, Dr. Henry Morgan. This is not the way I hoped to first meet you. I am King Myrddin, and this is my wife, Queen Laurel. I’ll take him quickly to the hospital wing. It’s best that the good doctor rest for now.”

Henry nodded. He watched as the King took Declan gently by the arm and teleported away with him.

The Queen gave him a small smile. She was beautiful, as he’d imagine a member of royalty to be, but her hair was such a vivid red that Henry swore he saw fire flickering in and out each lock of her hair. Like her hair contained fire – possibly the result of some fire-producing magic? If such a thing was able to be done.

“Thank you, Doctor, for coming,” she told him. “I was hoping you would. It is quite frightful what the government is doing to those they deem worth experimenting on. You are more valuable to us for your expertise and not as a lab rat in one of those government facilities outside Oakenmist.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for having faith in my abilities.”

She smiled in return. “I can take you to the hospital wing. I will tell you about Declan’s condition on the way.”

Henry was glad that she offered this as he was just about to say that he was hoping to head there. 

Effie spoke up, addressing the Queen, “I will make sure his son is made aware, and that he comes as soon as possible.” 

“It was nice to meet with you, Dr. Morgan,” she said to Henry.

He nodded at her, giving her an apologetic smile for his earlier behavior. But she seemed not to be bothered by it, hopefully understanding his disappointment at knowing he couldn’t save someone before he even had a chance to treat them.

Then she was gone, magically leaving as the King had done.

~ * ~

Henry learned from the Queen that Declan’s family suffered an unfortunate curse for a century now. It was after a long ago altercation gone wrong, and an opposing family cursed Declan’s ancestors to die before they reached their 40th birthday. From then on, his bloodline couldn’t live past their 40th birthday. As a result, they tried to have children before they turned 20. That way, they could watch their children grow into adulthood before the curse took their lives.

Currently, Declan had a son who was in his early twenties. He would have to come to serve as a magical healer while Henry mentored him and dealt with treating patients with non-magical remedies when asked.

It was difficult for Henry to watch Declan die when he had not known the man long. This family curse was an awful one. 

To think Henry himself was anxious to find ways to die permanently – to end his immortality curse – and this fellow doctor had only four decades of life to enjoy before his life was ripped away from him. And after a century of the curse, no wizard or witch – not even Merlin himself apparently – could end the unyielding magical curse.

From Declan’s son, Rilian, he learned that his family was strongly believed to be descended from the Greek goddess Aceso – the deity of the healing process involving healing wounds and curing illnesses. This was why for many centuries, Declan and Rilian’s ancestors were the best magical healers known to those of the magical community. Each family member had a natural aptitude for healing patients with magic, and doing it well. It was unheard of that a family member wouldn’t become a healer. It was ingrained into their mindset, into their souls.

The depth of this commitment impressed Henry. He couldn’t imagine how a family focused on healing would be cursed to die prematurely. But Rilian was very close-mouthed about the nature of the altercation – what had his ancestors done to wrong another family – what had been enough to enact such a dreadful curse? 

Henry had to accept that this was another family’s secret that had to remain a secret.

~ * ~


	2. Chapter 2

As Henry put his three-month old son into his crib, he contemplated the strange course his life had taken these past 13 months.

He hadn’t anticipated that he would sleep with the Queen. Initially, he refused when Laurel offered since she was, of course, married. And Henry believed the repercussions would be more severe for having an affair with a married Queen.

She assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem. That her relationship with Myrddin was more akin to brother and sister. Their marriage was one of necessity since in the magical community, it looked better to have a King who was the son of Merlin, the greatest wizard in existence. It had been Laurel’s idea to create Oakenmist, a safe place for those with magic. She had convinced Myrddin to work with her, to show a united front through marriage and becoming the leaders wary magic users needed.

Considering they were friends since childhood, the persuading had not been too difficult.

Besides, anyone could see the unstable atmosphere of the world today. Henry couldn’t imagine anyone turning down a suggestion to protect people, to establish a sanctuary as a shield against the growing paranoia the government was instilling among the general population.

Henry did speak to the King despite Laurel’s reassurances. He had surprised Henry in accepting his having a relationship with his wife. As long as they were discreet about it.

After so long of distancing himself from others, of avoiding intimate relationships, Henry couldn’t turn down the chance. Especially if Laurel was willing. He wasn’t sure if she was simply curious about his immortal condition that led to her proposition. 

Still, Henry didn’t waste his time dwelling on the reasons. His life had fallen into a monotony of work and lonely nights over a glass of alcohol. The opportunity to experience this new world and be among people who accepted him despite his secrets was welcome. He wasn’t going to concern himself with little details like Laurel’s true intent. Henry wasn’t too sure he had deep feelings for her either way – her being married was effective in keeping his mind from thinking of his romantic feelings for her, if any. But she was pretty, and easy to talk to, and that was enough for him for now.

But then Laurel had become pregnant, and that made matters more complicated. Henry was surprised himself at the pregnancy. All those times he had tried with Abigail to have a child, a sibling for Abe, and they never succeeded.

The solution that he, Laurel and Myrddin decided on was that Henry would raise the child in his home in town. The story would be that he was a single father, the child left in his care.

Of course, Henry didn’t doubt people would become suspicious especially when Laurel took a few months leave. Only a select few, including Effie as one Laurel’s ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. 

Fortunately no one seemed to mind all too much about the Queen’s odd absence and Dr. Henry Morgan suddenly having a child in his charge. It showed the precarious state of the world that things that were once highly controversial were now the opposite. A passing interest until the next bit of daily gossip unseated it. 

Three months later, Henry didn’t hear of anything that would cause him to worry. Laurel and Myrddin believed citizens of Oakenmist were more intent on wanting their King and Queen to remain united than any extramarital affairs. Even if the affair produced a child.

Between his work as a doctor at the castle and taking care of Cerulean, Henry was kept happily occupied. Spending time with his son, Cerulean, was always the best part of his day. He didn’t mind seeing less of Laurel. Guilt still weighed on Henry for sleeping with her even if her husband had allowed it.

And Effie had become a great help in looking after Cerulean. Laurel had insisted that Henry not do this alone, that he ask for help if he needed it.

Henry found it hard to refuse an opportunity to see the young woman who reminded him so much of Abigail.

Even if he had to resist the temptation to shake her – to ask her if she was really Abigail reborn.

Because there were moments when Effie smiled at him the way Henry remembered Abigail smiling at him. Or Effie gave him a significant look as if to say, _“I know you and I were in love once. I could never forget you, Henry.”_

His mind could be playing tricks on him, but Henry took those small signs as hope that Abigail's soul lived on all these years after her death.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry was surprised when the doorbell rang.

He went to answer the door and he was surprised to see that former patient, Tristan -- or was it really Arthur? -- standing in front of him.

Henry couldn’t miss that Tristan had dyed his hair so that it was darker now, having grown out as well with the hair spiked at the top. Also he was dismayed to see that the younger man was high considering his pupils were dilated and he was breathing faster than normal. 

Henry’s eyes narrowed, not happy to see him when he was currently on drugs.

“What are you doing? What made you think I’d let you in when you’ve clearly been taking narcotics?”

Tristan’s response to this was only to appear sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture. He apparently realized there was nothing he could say to make his being high acceptable.

Henry moved to shut the door on him, but Tristan stuck his foot in the door. “No, listen. I need to talk to you. I’m sure you want to know about Merlin. What happened. I doubt King Myrddin was interested in talking about it.”

Against his better judgement, Henry let out a sigh, and allowed Tristan in, opening the door fully. He had to admit he was curious. Like Tristan had said, the King was quick to shut down discussion about his father. It was sore subject for him Henry could tell. Declan had been right on that count. 

But in the end, the secrecy only caused Henry wanting to know the story even more. But he had to settle on being kept in the dark. From what he’d gleaned though, Merlin had left when Myrddin was only five. Henry decided that Myrddin must have abandonment issues. It had to have been hard for him to lose his father at a young age. His view of his father was tainted, and Merlin wasn’t the great, all-powerful wizard on some golden pedestal that other magic users saw him as. So Henry had decided not to press the subject. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by his father, to feel disappointed by the man he’d looked up to. He could understand not wanting to talk about that pain. It was little surprise the King was intent on finding his father – he had some unfinished business to settle with his father, to hopefully make amends with him.

“The doctor who saved your leg died months ago,” Henry told him. “If you care to know.”

Tristan nodded. “I know. I went to his grave after everyone left.”

Henry led him into the kitchen. “I have a 3-month old son. He’s taking his nap, and I don’t wish to wake him prematurely. Just so you are aware.”

“A lot has changed,” Tristan commented as he sat down.

“Yes, well, it has been a year. I see you have kept busy,” Henry said.

Tristan frowned. “Yeah, I could be doing better,” he admitted.

“I’ll make tea. Tell me about Merlin.”

“I wasn’t supposed to return like this,” Tristan said. “But I can’t change it. Twenty five years ago, Merlin had found a way to remove his immortality. He couldn’t take it anymore, I guess. He couldn’t wait any longer for my return.”

“So you were King Arthur?” Henry asked.

Tristan nodded. “A very long time ago. Another lifetime entirely.” He let out a sigh. “Merlin had a family then. He had a woman he cared for, he had a son – Myrddin. Yet still, neither of them were enough to stave off his deep depression.”

“I could understand it. Sometimes… what some believe is enough to give you a reason to live may not be so. It’s a hard thing to come to accept.”

Tristan looked at him sharply. “You’re immortal, aren’t you?”

Henry raised his eyebrow. “Why are you asking? And how did you even know to ask?”

Tristan shrugged. “I have a friend who’s good at investigation. This is why I wanted to tell you about Merlin. Because while he found a way to end his immortality, it came with a price. And in fact, it may not have worked at all.”

Henry set down a cup of hot tea in front of Tristan. He sat down himself across from Tristan, a cup in hand. “What went wrong?”

“The doctor who saved my leg… his father believed he found a way to take away someone’s immortality. Merlin sought him out. The way it was meant to work was he would die and be reincarnated. That way, he could have a fresh start.”

Now Henry was beginning to understand why Tristan was angry at Declan for helping him. If Declan’s father had a hand in causing Merlin’s disappearance, then of course Tristan would not be happy about receiving help from his son.

“Then he wasn’t reincarnated?”

Tristan shook his head. “From what I heard, Merlin disappeared when Dr. Turner’s father performed the spell. And because of my bond with Merlin, I was reborn instead of him. That’s what I believe at least. I think Myrddin believes so too. I had no idea I had a past life until a few years ago. Instead of returning as I was, directly from Avalon, I had to start from the beginning, from birth. Living a new life under another identity. That never should have happened if Merlin sought to end his immortality.”

“And now a quarter of a century later, Merlin is still missing,” Henry finished. “And there is no cure for immortality, not as he hoped.”

“Yes. Just… I want you to know if you think you’ve found a cure to stop being immortal – just remember that it may not work out the way you hope. And now I’m left without him when he should be here. Merlin should be alive…we should be working together as we did in Camelot. Instead… instead…”

Tristan let out a long sigh, pressing his fingers to his forehead. “…I’m feeling lost.”

Henry frowned. He put his hand over Tristan’s. “You were breathing fast earlier. How are you now? If you require an oxygen mask…”

Tristan shook his head right away. “No, no… I’m used to it. I know I shouldn’t be taking drugs, but they help. They make me forget the things I want to forget.”

“It’s not the sort of help I would advise,” Henry admonished.

Tristan didn’t back down. “Don’t tell me you were clean for all your life. You had your low points, didn’t you? You don’t live that long and not be tempted. For Merlin, living for as long as he did, it had to be ten times worse.”

Henry relented, recognizing that Tristan had a point. But he wasn’t going to discuss his past bouts of drug addictions. How more than once an opium den was like his second home, how he’d found it comforting when he had been at his lowest.

Before he picked himself back up and forced himself to be useful to the world. That he didn’t want to spend his never-ending life hiding away with a steady supply of addictive sedatives.

“But even if you remember your old life, you still want to be known as Tristan?”

Tristan shrugged his shoulders, looking down into his cup. “I don’t know,” he said, not looking Henry in the eye. “I just don’t think I can be that man, that king I once was…”

“—without Merlin,” Henry concluded smoothly. 

He met Henry’s gaze then. “Yes.”

Tristan left not long afterwards. He did return a few times until eventually he ended up staying with Henry. He accepted Henry’s help with a drug detox, and Henry began to trust him with Cerulean.

Tristan even allowed him to call him Arthur. It was his wild hope that maybe, just maybe, if he went by his old name, then that would serve as a beacon for Merlin. That his old confidante would return.

~ * ~

As Henry returned to Arthur with the tonic, he hoped for the other man’s sake that he would get his friend back.

But his story of Merlin’s disappearance was a cautionary tale Henry needed. Yet with Cerulean to care for, Henry wasn’t going to be in search of an immortality cure any time soon. His son needed him, and Henry would not let him down. He didn’t want Cerulean to end up like Myrddin – burdened by disappointment at the father he wished had been there for him.

~ * ~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Pristinely Ungifted people is from the TV series, Legend of the Seeker. I don't claim credit for it.

Henry returned to work the next day to find Rilian treating a patient without magic. He was applying sutures to a laceration on her hand.

Rilian noticed he had come in. At Henry’s silent question, Rilian told him, “I can heal without magic. I may not be as experienced as you, but I can do it.”

Henry granted him a small smile. “Practice will help. To make sure those skills are kept sharp. You know magic won’t resolve every injury.”

Henry recalled the devastating incident with Merlin. How magic had caused him to disappear and left those who cared for him trying to cope with the loss. And the pain of not knowing what happened to him. If he had died as he had wanted or if he were unexpectedly transported somewhere else. 

Merlin might be all alone in a place he couldn’t escape from or in a coma unable to wake up. Henry thought of the Locked-In Syndrome he’d condemned Adam to all that time ago. He sincerely wished Merlin was not in a similar state. 

Henry could scarcely imagine what Declan’s father had to have felt at the terrible mistake. A spell gone wrong. An immortal wizard revered by most gone in a blink of an eye. Henry was sure when he was alive, Declan had strongly argued against attempting such a spell to Rilian. Not to make the same mistake Rilian's grandfather had done. The consequences far outweighed the potential to give the patient what they requested.

“Of course,” Rilian said in response to Henry’s advice.

The patient, a girl who looked to be about ten, having sat quietly during their exchange, spoke up. “Dr. Turner didn’t tell you why he’s not healing me with magic.”

Rilian shrugged at him, looking sheepish. 

Henry peered at the girl. “And why is that? What’s your name?”

“My name is Lucinda,” the girl said, perking up. Especially since Rilian had finished suturing her wound. “I’m Pristinely Ungifted. Magic can’t be used on me.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lucinda. I’m Dr. Henry Morgan. You made Rilian’s day. Gave him a chance to keep up his non-magical skills.”

Rilian rolled his eyes at Henry’s pointed comment. 

Lucinda grinned. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re good to go, Lucinda,” Rilian told her. “You should return in a week to have the sutures removed.”

She thanked him and went on her way, skipping along as she did.

“Pristinely Ungifted?” Henry prompted, looking to Rilian.

“It’s what the King’s mother was. That’s why there are Pristinely Ungifted people residing in Oakenmist too. The King wants to provide a safe place for them too. There are magic users who are uneasy around them, feel they are aberrations, but they are here to stay. So it’s best to simply accept their presence. They can’t use magic either.”

“So that’s the real reason why his mother couldn’t be saved.”

“The Druid clan King Myrddin was a part of wasn’t sure who to trust,” Rilian explained. “They didn’t want to put his mother into the care of just any non-magical physician. The King was only fifteen at the time, and years from being King. He had little authority then. It was a difficult loss for him to take. After his father’s disappearance and then losing his mother, becoming an orphan was a harsh blow for him.”

“At least there is the hope that he can find his father.”

Rilian gave him a weak smile. “Yes.”

Henry put his hand on Rilian’s shoulder, patting it. He could see that Rilian was thinking of his own father, who should still be alive and here with him if it wasn’t for the wretched curse.

A curse that would affect Rilian in eighteen years’ time.

Henry was startled, stumbling back, when he got a flash of his old friend, Dr. James Carter, in his mind’s eye. 

Rilian frowned, appearing concerned as he grabbed Henry’s arm to steady him. “Are you all right, Henry?”

Henry gave him a quick, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. I just realized I missed my breakfast. I am feeling a bit faint.”

Rilian didn’t seem to buy it, his expression doubtful. “Are you sure?”

Henry nodded.

He observed Rilian in a new light as the younger doctor directed him to sit down and that he’d get Henry something to eat.

Rilian looked nothing like James. Of course, his hair was curled, but it had a finer texture and the color was a lighter brown. His eyes were such a light blue that they were almost white. He was about as tall as Henry, though a little thinner. Henry could certainly understand why the women in the castle found him attractive. When Rilian had first come to the castle, Henry could tell that some of the teenaged girls were taken by him.

Except for Effie it seemed – she preferred Henry’s company.

Yet Henry had to say Rilian was a little vain from the attention he knew he was receiving. That’s why he had trouble taking Henry’s advice to heart. He was too content in his way.

But now, if the vision of James was any sign, then Rilian could be his incarnation.

That meant Henry had eighteen years to figure out how to break a century-old curse on Rilian’s family.

That was possible, right?

After James had died before his time, Henry simply couldn’t allow his incarnation, if Rilian was truly that, to suffer a similar fate.

Over the years, Henry had spent time and again trying to find ways to die permanently.

Now he would have a new focus. Extending a life.

He imagined Abe would be proud. 

After all, Abe had never been too happy about Henry’s fixation of seeking a lasting death.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


End file.
